


Confession and Satisfaction

by badcircuit



Series: The Chyna Chronicles [3]
Category: The Town (2010)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light BDSM, PWP, Priest Roleplay, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:29:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badcircuit/pseuds/badcircuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jem Coughlin versus Chyna White, round 3.  I took some liberties this time (lol) because Jem in a nun’s habit just doesn’t do it for me.  Enter Father Coughlin.  Obviously, if you’re offended by dirty fake priests, don't read it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confession and Satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [disturbedbydesign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/disturbedbydesign/gifts).



Jem was in the club with his crew earlier tonight.  We played it cool, like we hadn’t fucked each other raw a couple of times.  I’ll admit I was a little pissed that he didn’t pay more attention to me.  I caught him giving me that look though, the one that promises all kinds of nasty shit.  If I’d been wearing panties, that look would have torched them. 

One of the waitresses passes me a note just before last call.  Chicken scratch on a cocktail napkin, short and sweet with no signature:  _I’ll be back soon._

Soon?  What the fuck?  I look around to see if he’s still there so I can flip him the bird but he’s already gone. 

Days pass and no Jem, that rat bastard.  I’m sitting on the couch on Easter Sunday, eating the pink sugar coating off of Peep bunnies and watching Shaun of the Dead because zombies and resurrection—ha ha—when someone knocks on the door. 

After a quick look out the peephole to see who it is, I throw the door open and have to press my lips together to keep from screaming with laughter.  Jem’s got on all black:  a long sleeve button down shirt, pants and lace-up shoes.  A pair of nerdy black horn-rimmed glasses is perched crookedly on his nose.  The kicker is the priest’s white dog collar.  I glance up from the collar to find him eyeing me wolfishly before he composes himself and gives me a nearly innocent smile.

“Miss White,” he says, tugging his cuffs down.

I smother a laugh in a cough.  “Father Coughlin.  A home visit…this must be serious.  Please come in.”

I seat him at the kitchen table in one of the sturdy, armless, upholstered chairs, my devious mind racing with possibilities.  “Something to drink, Father?”  I rummage around in my pantry and fridge, smirking the whole time.  “I’ve got wine, hard cider, Guinness, Stoli, Patron, and Jameson.  Oh, and coffee, tea, or—”

“Coffee,” he snaps, begrudgingly adding, “Please.”   He says it like it’s a foreign word.   

Jem asking nicely?  This is too good.  Instantly I know how it’s going down this time.  Screw whatever he had planned.  I am going to drive the good Father out of his holy fucking mind. 

Hiding a wicked grin, I busy myself with turning on the Keurig and making the coffee.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see him checking me out, his gaze lingering on my ass, so perfectly showcased in clingy, black yoga pants.

 _There will be no ass wrecking today, you gloriously filthy fucker_.

“Cream or sugar, Father?” I ask sweetly.

“I like it black,” he says, pushing the glasses up on his nose.

 _Mmm, don’t I know it._ I set the mug of coffee in front of him and sit to his right, close enough to get at his crotch with my foot if I feel like it.  “So what have I done to merit a house call, Father Coughlin?”

He sips at the coffee and grimaces like it’s poison.  “I’ve been hearing things, Miss White.   That you’re taking your clothes off for money.  That you bring home strange men to fu—have sex with.  That you do…things with them.  Sinful things.  I’m worried about your immortal soul.”

I have to cover my mouth with my hand and pretend to think about that to keep from losing it.  Actually I do think but it’s about all the sinning I did with him and how I can’t wait to do some more, my immortal soul be damned.

He drinks and waits, staring me down.  I have no idea how he keeps a straight face but he’s totally into it, goddamn him.  My nipples harden under his holier-than-thou scrutiny, poking against the Blow Me gaming cartridge t-shirt I didn’t bother wearing a bra with.  His eyes shift down for a few seconds and he frowns like I’m the devil incarnate.  “Nothing to say for yourself, Miss White?”

Who knew being judged could be so arousing?  Yeah, I like dirty cops and rough, almost nonconsensual sex, but priests?  What the fuck is wrong with me?  My hand is still over my mouth and I have to bite my finger to keep from giggling.

“It’s all true, Father,” I finally admit, sighing.  “I’m a dirty sinner.  What should I do?”

I almost get him with that dirty sinner bit.  I swear he’s hiding a smile behind that coffee mug.

“Hmm,” he says, carefully setting the coffee aside then taking my hands chastely in his.  “Confession is always good for the soul.  Tell me your sins and I’ll absolve you.”  He’s so fucking good at this.  I thought I was going to have the upper hand but now I’m not so sure.

“I hardly even know where to begin, Father C.  I’ve been so bad,” I say, squeezing his hands.  I think about last time and all the wonderfully fucked up shit he did with them and go hot all over. 

He pauses, clearing his throat.  He’s thinking about something too, judging by the state of his crotch.  “Just confess what you’ve been doing that you shouldn’t be.”

I do laugh a little then.  “We could be here all night.  I guess I’ll start with the stripping thing though…”

“Yes,” he says, all attentive concern.  “Tell me.”

“I do strip but it’s not just for the money, Father.  I…like it.  Truth is, my body is the shit—oops, I mean it’s nice—and I like showing it off.  And when I know people are getting off watching me, it gets me off too.”

“I see,” he says, showing just enough disapproval to crank my engine.  “Continue.  Please.”

“Well, then I met this guy at the strip club and he came over and… stuff happened.  He came over twice actually.  We fucked, Father.  I wish I could say we made love but it was fucking, pure and simple.  And honestly, I loved every smutty, sinful minute of it.  I wish he’d come back again because I didn’t get enough.  I think it might be too late for me.”  My eyes drop to his tented crotch and I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling.  Advantage me.

He tightens his hands on mine, his eyes gleaming with fake zeal or real lust, it’s hard to tell.  “It’s never too late for one of the Lord’s little lambs.  You have to tell me what you did though or I can’t absolve you.”

Damn, he’s an evil fucker.  This isn’t going my way and I don’t like it.  “Oh, I can’t say it out loud, Father.  It’s pretty crazy,” I say, stalling and thinking about how to make him suffer.

“I’ve heard it all,” he says, all pious and shit.  “Go on, my child.”

Oh my God, he’s enjoying this too much.  I have to fucking destroy him.

“Ok,” I say.  “Alright.  So…the first time he came, he had on a police uniform and we played dirty cop and nasty girl.  He treated me like a criminal and I had to do um, favors, so he’d let me go.”

“What kinds of favors?” 

I try to look contrite but I haven’t had much practice so I don’t know how convincing it is.  “God, Father.  This is so embarrassing.  Well, first he made me uh, suck his cock.  I mean, he didn’t _make_ me but there was hair pulling and, pardon the expression...face fucking, and I was ok with all of that.  He called me a cocksucker because I’m really good at it but—sorry, Father.  I told you it was bad.”

“No, no.  I’m fine.  Keep going.”  He drops one of my hands to run a finger around the inside of the collar, tugging at it.  His increasing discomfort warms my black heart and my pussy equally.

“We fucked, of course.  He told me to make myself come and I did it.  He talked dirty to me the whole time and I loved it.  Oh, and he stuck his thumb in my ass and threatened to fuck me there too and I wanted it.  How can God forgive me for that, Father Coughlin?”

He releases my other hand and crosses one knee over the other, wincing the tiniest bit.  “The Lord, er, works in mysterious ways, Miss White.  What happened the second time?”

“Oh, Father C.  He pretended to break in and force me.  He had on a hockey mask and he had this police baton thing—he fucked me in the pussy and ass with it—and he gagged me and tied me up and told me to fight him, which was hotter than hell, by the way.  Or maybe not.  Hotter than hell, I mean.   And he fucked my ass so hard even though I said I didn’t want to, which was such a lie.  I had to call in sick for two days afterwards.  Goddamn, that kid fucks like a champ.  Oops.  Sorry, Father.”

He’s sweating now and looks like he’s in pain.  “Is there something else you want to confess?”

For a minute, I’m confused because I really don’t know where he’s going with this but then I remember I don’t give a fuck what he’s got planned.  This is my shit and it’s time to up the ante.

“Here’s the thing, Father.  I’m not sorry about any of it.  I never will be.  In fact, I think about it all the time and make myself come every chance I get.  I like to get naked, I like people to watch me, I like to fuck and I especially like to fuck this dude because he does shit I don’t even know I want until he does it.  So while I appreciate your concern for my soul, I really don’t give a fuck.”

“Now hold on there, Miss White—“

“No, you hold on, Father Coughlin.  On top of not giving any fucks for salvation, I also feel sorry for you.  You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

I’m standing now, all up in his face, my braless tits bouncing with my fake indignation, and he can’t take his eyes off them.

“I’ve had sex before,” he says.  “Before becoming a man of the cloth.”  His voice is getting gruff just like I like it.

“Yes, but not like I’m talking about.   And what I’m talking about excites you and that pisses you off so you shame me for it.  You want me and you don’t want to admit it.  You’ve been staring at my tits all night,” I say, whipping my t-shirt off, balling it up and nailing him in the chest with it.  “Look all you want, Father C.  Hell, you can even touch.  I won’t tell if you don’t.”

He almost does it before he remembers our game.  “Just like Eve tempting Adam.  I’m above the pleasures of the flesh.”

I finally give in to laughter.  “No, you’re not.  But you can keep telling yourself that and blame me for what I’m going to do to you.  I absolve you, Father Coughlin.”

“Wait,” he protests.  When I climb onto his lap, he hisses like I’ve burned him and flings his hands up in surrender to keep from touching me.

“No waiting.  You don’t have to do a thing.  I’ll give us what we both want and you can say the devil made you do it.”  I grab his hands and bring them to my tits, covering them with mine and making him squeeze.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Miss White.  This isn’t right.”  He’s staring angrily at my mouth, his jaw clenched so tight I expect to hear teeth cracking soon.

“I know,” I say.  “That’s what makes it so great.”  I scoot closer, fucking up his pristine black pants with my wet crotch.  Damn, he’s hard.  I figure no one’s ever played this game with Jem before and I’m pretty proud of myself for finding one of his kinks for a change, probably one he wouldn’t admit to under normal circumstances.  I just wonder how long he’s going to remain the good Father and put up with it.  I hate to rush things but I know I’m pressing my luck.  Running my hands up his arms, I lean in close.  His nape is damp beneath my fingers and the muscles in his shoulder are twitching with his effort to keep still.  “Ever had a blow job, Father C?” I whisper in his ear.

“I’m not answering that,” he grumbles.  He looks so pissed.  When he breaks, I’m going to get it so bad and I can’t fucking wait.

Grinning, I get up and wriggle out of my sticky yoga pants.  I didn’t wear panties either and I’m kind of regretting not having something else to soak up my ridiculous wetness.  “That’s fine.  It’s not going to stop me from giving you one though.”

I admit I’ve got a thing for sucking Jem’s cock.  Maybe he’ll cave and grab a handful of my hair so he can hold me in place while he fucks my mouth.  I wasn’t lying when I said I wank to memories of that first time regularly.  Damn him.

“Pretty nice, huh Father? “  I do a slow turn, reaching up to free my hair from the scrunchie and shaking it out.  I know I look smoking with the afternoon sun streaming in on me from the window.  I know he can see my pussy and thighs glistening in the light.  “No, you don’t have to say anything.  I can tell you like what you see.”

He’s glaring but his eyes are definitely on my prize.  “My flesh is weak,” he snarls.

I drop down on all fours and crawl slowly to him.  Prying his thighs apart, I kneel between them and lay my hand on the wet spots I left behind on his pants, his stiff cock burning my palm through the thin fabric.  He nearly drops the F bomb but sinks his teeth into his bottom lip instead.  “Some of your flesh maybe, but I wouldn’t call this weak.”

“I’m only a man, saints preserve me.  And you’re a sinful, tempting girl, Miss White.”  He sighs like he’s resigned to his fate and grips the chair bottom so hard it creaks beneath his fingers.

“Well then, close your eyes and pray for me, Father, because I’m about sin like a motherfucker.” 

Bringing both hands up, I unbuckle his belt and undo his pants.  As soon as I slide the zipper down, his cock springs free.  “Commando, Father?  Shame on you,” I scold, wrapping my fist around him and stroking slowly.  A fat bead of precome gathers at the tip and I smear it around with my thumb, staring up at him.  When I tongue the slit, his eyes open, showing pupils blown wide with lust.  When I take him in my mouth, his head drops back and he mutters up to the heavens “God forgive me.”  Looking fiercely back down at me, he says, “Do your worst, Miss White.”

“Mmmm,” I hum around his cock, taking him down deeper.  I love the taste and feel of him in my mouth so much I could suck him off forever but judging by the look on his face, he isn’t going to last more than a few more minutes.  I back off, just licking him from balls to tip, and he makes a sound of protest and then a pained groan when I start swirling my tongue around the head.  “Like that, Father?”

“It’s whorish,” he says, curling his lip. 

“You can stop me any time, if that’s what you want.  But we both know you don’t really want that.”  I say, with a dirty grin.  I suck him down again, all the way down, sticking out my tongue to tickle his balls, and he nearly grabs for me.  He’s straining to hold onto that chair, his breath coming fast and harsh.  I’m not sure if it’s denying himself the satisfaction of lording it over me or pretending to be defiled by me that’s doing it for him but whatever it is, it’s doing it for me too.  I reach down to touch myself and he actually growls.

I come back up, gasping for air, and switch to a strong, steady rhythm that’s sure to make him come.  I wriggle a finger between his ass cheeks and press the tip of it ever so gently into his hole and he looks like the top of his head is going to blow off.  I am in so much trouble now and I love it.  He goes rigid all over and I pull back, mouth open, tongue out and hand jerking.  He spews like a geyser, the first burst hitting the back of my throat hard enough to make me gag.  He just keeps coming and coming and I take it all.  When he’s finally done, I open my mouth wide so he can see his come pooled there and then I swallow it all with a smile.

He jumps out of the chair in a huff and stomps into the kitchen, but I’m too busy giggling to care.  Oh my God, the look on his face when I stuck my finger up his…

“You’ve got the devil in you for sure, Miss White, and I’m going to beat him out of you.”

My mouth drops open and my eyebrows shoot up as I look from the wooden spoon in his hand to his face.  There’s the dirty fucker I know and lust after.  His sleeves are rolled up, revealing his vascular forearms, and I swear I would lick every single one of those veins if he’d let me.  I think he’s done letting me run the show and I’m not mad about that at all. 

“And then you can take his place.  Inside me, I mean.”  Jesus, I can’t help myself.  The words are barely out of my mouth before he’s on me, shoving my head down on to the floor with one hand, holding me there by the back of my neck, and wailing away at my ass with the spoon in the other.

The spoon doesn’t hurt so much as sting and the fact that Jem’s the one doing the beating turns the sting into pleasure.  When a moan slips out, he growls again and I hear a clatter before I see the spoon hit the floor.

“I hoped I could make you see the evil of your ways by coming over here to talk to you, Miss White, but words don’t work with you.”

The first slap of his hand on my ass surprises a scream out of me and he shifts the one on my neck to cover my mouth.  He alternates butt cheeks, laying on sharp spanks relentlessly that heat up the stings left by the spoon to fire.  I feel every inch of that big paw of his as he works me over, panting and cursing in a very un-Father Coughlin-like way.

He stops suddenly and tsks.  “You’re enjoying this,” he says disbelievingly, back in Father C mode.

I groan and lick at his palm.  He could beat me all night long and I’d still have devil to spare.

“Damn you, girl,” he grates out.  “Damn us both.” 

I hear the rustle of cloth and then he’s on top of me, the skin of his bare belly cool against my blazing ass, a momentary comfort.  He’s as hard as he was before, maybe harder.  He knees my thighs open enough to fill me up, fast and rough, then starts pounding me into the floor, giving me everything I want and more.  The friction of the shirt tails and his happy trail against my flaming cheeks has me right on the edge of pain and pleasure, an edge I’ve discovered is a place I like to be as long as Jem is the one putting me there. 

He claps a hand over my mouth again to contain my squeals, rough fingers digging into my cheek, and works the other beneath me, one of those long fingers finding my clit and playing it in time with his strokes.  “You teased and tempted and brought me down to your level, Miss White.  Are you happy now?” he breathes into my ear.

I’m so goddamn happy it’s pathetic.  I am one twisted bitch and I’m not sorry at all.

I come hard and long, screaming my head off into his hand.  He picks up the pace, shifting his hand down to my throat and squeezing.  Inexplicably, my orgasm flares back to life despite every slap of his hips against my ass driving the pain higher until it isn’t pain anymore, just pure dark bliss. 

“You are so fucked up,” he says with something like admiration in his voice.  He comes with a long, drawn out “Christ” and then rolls off me, flopping onto his back with an arm flung over his face.

I laugh until I’m wheezing.  “So are you.  A priest?  And on Easter?  We’re both gonna fry, Jem Coughlin.”

“I’ll bring some of those Peep things you got over there.”

We both dissolve into laughter again.  He’s got a nice laugh, rusty and contagious.  It makes me horny again.  Hell, everything he does makes me horny.   

We get dressed—actually I’m the only one who got naked, he just straightens his pants and shirt out—and before shit gets awkward, he slaps me on the ass in lieu of goodbye and takes off.

I start laughing again when he’s gone, rubbing my tender skin, realizing that he managed to wreck my ass again in a whole new way.  We're like a match made in pervy fuck buddy hell and I can hardly wait to see what he comes up with next time.


End file.
